


Pedal To The Metal

by Shea M (bubblebee)



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men: First Class - Fandom
Genre: Almost doesn't really count as smut, But I just wanted to be safe, Car desperations, Charles has an accident, It's Erik's fault really, M/M, Omorashi, Pants wetting, Slight Dom/Sub, Super soft smut, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 03:34:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12123645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblebee/pseuds/Shea%20M
Summary: Charles has an accident. It's Erik's fault, really.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing anything like this, but this seems to be the kind of thing people like. I hope I did it right. 
> 
> Title from Gold Trans Am by Kesha.

They'd been on the road for only about three hours when Charles _really_ started to feel it. A light pressure sitting in his bladder, right where his belt was squeezing him just a bit too tight. He didn't think the four cups coffee he'd gulped down at the diner he and Erik stopped at before heading out would run through him this quickly, but now there was no denying it.

Charles _really_ had to pee.

He really had to pee and it didn't look like there was going to be anywhere to stop for a while. Sand, cacti, and more road were the only things that stretched out in front of them. Not wanting to panic just yet, Charles looked down at the atlas opened up on his lap for any sign of a town coming up that they could drive through. Towns had gas stations, and gas stations had bathrooms.  
Charles scanned the mess of lines in front of him, and to his disappointment, discovered that the next town wouldn't pop up for about 450 more miles. _450 more miles._ There was _no_ _way_ Charles was going to make it that long. Erik was going to have to pull over and let Charles take care of his business on the side of the road. As much as Charles detested the thought, there was no way around it.

“Hey Erik,” Charles said almost sheepishly, Erik grunted to show he was listening, “do you think you could pull over real quick so that I could, um, relieve myself?” Charles felt his face flush. He felt silly asking Erik to pull over so he could pee, like a child who had too much juice before leaving the house. He should be able to hold it, he was an _adult_ for God's sake, but he really didn't think he could. Not for long anyways.

Erik glanced over at Charles incredulously. “We're in the middle of the desert, Charles, where in hell are you wanting me to pull over? There's nowhere out here for you 'relieve yourself’. We’re making good time, I don't want to slow down now.” Erik side eyed Charles, something that looked like a smirk swimming into his face. “Besides,” he drawled, his voice taking on a more commanding tone, “you're a big boy, Charles, you can hold it,” Erik took his eyes off the road to cock an eyebrow at Charles, a look Charles has never seen before on his face, “ _can't you_?”

Charles felt like all the air was suddenly forced out of his lungs with the weight of Erik's words. Erik's never looked at him like that before, never talked to him like that, and Charles didn't know what to do or say next. Was Erik really serious about not pulling over? Was he _really_ going to make Charles hold it? Judging by the the strange look on his face that was starting to make Charles a little uneasy, and the fact that he wasn't pulling over, he concluded that yes, Erik was _completely serious_.

Well, _fuck_. It looks like Charles had about _six_ _fucking hours_ to wait until got to the bathroom.

 


	2. Chapter 2

It had been about two hours since the 'pull over’, conversation, and in that time they'd only driven about 140 miles. Charles was starting to  _lose it._  The pressure at his belt was unbearable. It was to the point where he had to actually take his belt off because it was squeezing him too much, putting too much weight onto his already straining bladder. Erik was trying to kill him. Just when Charles thought that he was starting to get Erik to trust him and think him a friend, Erik goes and tries to kill him. How  _rude_.

Charles couldn't sit still. He was practically vibrating in the passenger seat, all the while Erik kept his eyes on the road ahead, seemingly oblivious to Charles’ desperate squirming while he chatted listlessly away about his hopes for the next mutant or whatnot. Charles was barely paying attention, focusing all his attention on not wetting his slacks in the front seat of their rented car. Erik certainly wasn't making it any easier on Charles, stopping just a bit too hard at any stop sign they happened upon, and driving about ten miles under the speed limit. Charles thought he was doing it all on purpose, just so he could watch Charles writhe in the seat next to him.

Maybe this was Erik's cruel way of making the time pass by faster. Something to entertain himself with on the long drive to the next town. Charles didn't think it was very entertaining, in fact, he was  _livid_. Why would Erik insist on making Charles suffer like this? What did he get out of it? Why wouldn't he just  _pull over_? Charles didn't think he could hold it in much longer, it was just downright  _painful_ at this point. It felt like he was going to burst. He couldn't stop squirming, afraid that if he did he'd leak into his pants, but he didn't want to sit still for the same reason.

There was no winning for Charles. He was  _fucked_.

Unless they pulled over right this instant, Charles was going piss his pants, and that was completely unacceptable. He wouldn't do it, no matter how funny Erik thought it would be. This game of his was stopping right now. Charles was done, over it, and Erik was still fucking talking.

“Erik,” Charles interrupted desperately, “Erik, you have to pull over  _right now,_  please. I can't hold it anymore it  _hurts_. Please just pull over or I swear to  _god_  I'm going to make you spend the rest of your life afraid to touch your own dick. You have to pull over, Erik, right now,  _right the_   _fuck now_!”

Charles was nearly breathless by the end of his begging, sweating and writhing in his seat with the need to relieve himself. He thought he was  _dying,_  would rather be dead than have to sit another second with his overly full bladder.  _Damn_  his love for coffee.  _Damn_  Erik and his stupid need to never be behind schedule.

 _Damndamndamndamndamndamndamn_.

He wasn't going to make it. There was no way. No way in  _hell_.

A noise to Charles’ left made him look up and over. Erik was  _laughing_. Chuckling under his breath like someone told him a mildly amusing joke. Charles was starting think that his pleas fell on deaf ears but here Erik was, laughing at his desperation. Charles was going to kill him. Violently. In his sleep.  _Violently_.

“Oh Charles,” Erik cooed after he was done laughing, looking over at Charles with that look on his face again, “if you needed to use the restroom, you should've just  _asked_.” Charles didn't have time to get upset and start yelling at Erik that  _he fucking did_ , about 200 miles back, because he was rushing to catch himself on the dashboard before he flew into it because Erik  _slammed_  on the brakes. The tires screeched their protest atop asphalt with the force of it all, and Charles didn't understand why Erik would do such a thing until-

No.  _No. Nonononononono. Goddammit Erik._

Charles gasped and sobbed as his bladder let go, unable to hold up against the force of Charles’ seatbelt digging into it. The only sound louder than Charles’ sobs and whimpers was the wet hissing of his bladder finally relieving itself onto the passenger seat. Charles could feel the heat on his face and neck. He's never been so  _humiliated_  in his entire life.

It was only after it was all over, after he was completely empty, did Charles realize the there was a hand rubbing circles in his back and combing through his hair. Erik was running his fingers through his curls, whispering encouragements at Charles. Telling him what a  _good boy_ he was for holding out so long, that he was  _proud_  of him for it, that he did  _such a good job._

Charles understood then, why Erik wouldn't pull over.

Erik  _liked_  that Charles was desperate during those five hours after leaving the diner. He  _liked_  Charles squirming next to him. Liked that he had full control of the situation. Charles was blindsided. He never thought that Erik would be  _turned on_  by something like this, but after taking a tentative peek down at Erik's lap, he was all too aware that he thought wrong.

Charles felt a warmth flutter to life in his groin that had nothing to do with the wetness in his slacks and in his seat.  _He_  did that to Erik.  _He_  made Erik feel that way. Erik was breathing hard next to him, still stroking his hand through his hair band down his back, still whispering to him.

Charles supposes he wouldn't mind being desperate for Erik all that much. It's not like anyone got truly hurt in the process of Erik's little game.

He shudders to think of the cleaning bill for the rental car though.


End file.
